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My folks had an "open house" for kids from about '56 to '76. It was on Parita Place in Ancon, Canal Zone (central America that is). It was known as "Belden's" or just "B's". In the twenty years it was open, nearly 5,000 "kids" hung out there. The rules were - no dope, no booze, no fighting and no cussing AND "one foot on the floor". There was TV to watch, a stereo to listen to, a dining room tableon which to play cards (pinochle, bridge, hearts, poker) or chess or monopoly, a living room to hang out and talk in and a kitchen with free pepsi or coca cola (one per person per day), usually a pantry with munchies and my dad made killer hamburgers for a select few. It was safe and clean and friendly - and there was an adult who would always listen - most adults didn't listen to "kids". Parents were relieved to know there was a place their kids could go and not get in trouble and it was a good place to meet people who could become lifelong friends.
It all started with kids from Parita Place coming over - John, Bill and Lou Engleke, Jack and Dick Hern, John, Deniis and Bill Deming, Florencio Arosemena, Arthur O'Leary, Rollo Windberg, Joannie, Mary and Jack Barrett. Then their friends started coming over with them - the Sheridan brothers, Ken and Ron Pearl, Russ Weed, the Burda clan, Fred Huddleston, Bob Bowen, Gordy Boswell, Tom Collins, Terry Deakins, Bud Dempsey, Jerry Mann, Sam Wittkins, Randy and Tom Ganlge, Buzzy Orr and the Rathgaber tribe. The guys brought their girlfriends who in turn brought their friends. It was a geometric progression - 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64 . . . 5,000!
During the school year, on week nights, there'd be 10 or twelve folks stop in and on weekends it would be more like 20 to 40 coming over. For special occassions, like Easter, Christmas, New Years Eve and during Carnival the numbers might go up to 70 to 100. I've got the "sign in" books from about '62 to '76 so I know these numbers are good.
What made the place special, aside from the fact that it existed, were the "kids". They were a pretty accepting group, and it didn't matter where you came from, or who your folks were, or what language you spoke at home - it was what kind of a person you were that was important. If you were an idiot, the other things didn't matter. If you were a good person the other things didn't matter either. Idiots seldom made a second visit to "B's".
My dad, "Mr. B", understood "kids" (read teenagers). He knew what a trying time that period of not being a child and not yet an "adult" was, with all its insecurities and confusion. His gift was helping "kids" going through tough times, helping them understand that it wasn't fatal, wasn't unending and that things would get better and life would go on - just what they needed to not give up and pack it in (I know of at least 20 people who are alive today because someone was there to show them that suicide wasn't the answer). And it was often "love" that caused the most grief and the most joy, with parents running a close second.
Did you know that Mr. B was a regular guest lecturer at the University of Panama - teen psychology was his topic and he knew a lot about the subject. Many of you may have used some of what Mr. B told you way back then to you r kids when they hit that critical age.
My mother should be nominated for sainthood, putting up with the mob of kids that flowed into and out of the house. Fred Huddleston really tried her patience though. Seems Fred and a few others decided that a party would be a great way to meet girls. Unfortunately, his parents weren't supportive of having such a party at their house. So "B's" would be the logical place.
During the week before the "party", people would come up to me at school and say "Big party at your house this weekend!". "Yeah right!" I'd say sarcastically.
The Friday afternoon of "the Friday Night", my mother had a shower for one of the women from church. At seven that night the punch bowl was still out, as was half a cake and a boatload of cookies and finger food with dip. And when kids started wandering in it wasn't unusual. But when the 200 th kid walked through the door and stuffed themselves into the living room there was a realization that something different was going on.
At nine o'clock she announced that there were no more cokes, no more pepsis, no more Orange Crush, no more munchies and no more food in the house. She said someone had better go get more if this "thing" was to continue. Then she went back to talking with the kids and making her rosaries (the woman could take a spool of wire and some beads and crank out rosaries like a machine!). When I came home about ten o'clock I saw all the cars parked everywhere and assumed someone was having a party. When I tried to get into MY HOME, people asked if I'd been invited and wanted to know who had invited me! Such was life living at "B's".
And there were the "outings" (no, not that kind of "outing"!). My dad would take 10 or 12 of us out to K-9, or K-6 (rivers in the jungle) or to Goofy Lake, ( a guy damned up a valley and made his own lake - people called him Goofy when he told them of his plan) or Santa Clara Beach, or Gorgona Beach or Rio Mar Beach (remember the black sand?) etc. We'd pile into the '57 red and white Ford station wagon, sometimes two deep, and take off for some adventure. How he put up with all the jostling and foolishness is beyond me. When we got too obnoxious he'd yell "Quit horsing around!", what ever that meant, and we'd quiet down - for a minute or two at least.
I went off college in California in '65 and B's went on without me. My old room became TV Room #2 and life went on. As each of B's kids grew up and moved away new kids took their places. Little kids I'd taught to swim over at the Balboa Pool were now teens and hangin' out at B's. It had become sort of an institution.
Institutions keep records - or in this case a "sign in" book. I've got most of them and have been extracted names and looking for e-mail addresses. I've found some of you and hope when this "B's Web Page" thing gets going and word spreads will find more of you. So spread the word - Mr. B could use some fond memories about now.
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